The Babysitter
by Deathcrest
Summary: Urban Legend #1: Winry thought that it would be just a cool night. A series of late-night phone calls, sudden sounds from upstairs and mysterious shadowed figures made her think twice about it.


**Disclaimer: FullMetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and Square-Enix.**

**AN: **_This is the first story of a new series of mine, titled "The Urban Legends". It's pretty self-explanatory. Meaning, I will be using the plots of some of the world's famous urban legends and just giving a twist to the story. So, here's to firsts. =)_

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><p><strong>The Babysitter<strong>

Winry sighed as she knocked on the large house's double doors. It was Saturday, a day in the life of a college student where she should be out partying or shagging half of the male population. NOT BABYSITTING.

She raised her hand, about to knock again, when the door opened and a kindly woman came out. Mrs. Mustang was a tall, blonde, statuesque woman—even at the age of forty-one. She gave Winry a million-watt smile and opened the door.

"Winry, nice to see you. Please, come in." Mrs. Mustang gestured to the house. Winry smiled back at her and picked up her messenger bag and came in.

The house itself was splendid. It was spacious, with tall white walls and different paintings adorning them. Knickknacks of all sorts: antique charms, necklaces with shining gems and even rusty knives that looked like it had seen better days rested upon tables set around the living room.

It was actually nice. No, scratch that. This room was definitely the shit.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the room and both Winry and Mrs. Mustang looked up the stairs to see a tall (even taller than gigantess Mrs. Mustang, Winry thought), dark-haired and extremely handsome man.

Really.

Seriously.

No shit.

The guy was a stud.

Even if he was, like, around forty-three or something.

Winry definitely thought that Mrs. Mustang was a _lucky _woman.

"Roy, dear. This is Winry", said Mrs. Mustang, placing a hand on Winry's arm. Winry turned to Mr. Mustang and gave him a smile of recognition, receiving a heart-melting one in return.

_Dear God, this woman is lucky as hell_, Winry thought once more, not even feeling a bit shameful for the dirty thoughts circling her mind.

"Hello, Winry. Nice to meet you. Say, you want a tour of the house?" Mr. Must—Roy asked.

_What about a tour of your delicious bod? I think that's waaay better._ "Sure." Winry replied with a smile, her less-than-decent thoughts buried.

The tour, no matter how much Winry wanted it to last, came to an end. The whole house was amazing. It had a kitchen, which was designed with state-of-the-art equipment; it had two bathrooms on the first floor, both designed nicely; there was even a small indoor garden for a dog named Black Hayate. At that, Winry rolled her eyes.

Their house might be amazing.

The owners might be to kill for.

They may be as rich as shit.

But, please.

Her dog, Den, was better than that white-and-black mutt.

Damn right.

When they rounded back to the living room, and when Winry had half a mind to jump Roy on the wide table right there and now, Mrs. Mustang came down the stairs, giving them her mega-watt smile.

Oh well. The jumping may have to wait. Mrs. Mustang was too kind and too good to her to sexually assault her husband. Ha.

"Dear, I've put Ross to sleep. So, we can get going right now." She spoke to Roy, who gladly gave her an award-winning smile, his dark eyes bright. Winry almost sighed. The man was too lovestruck with his wife to even comprehend that a hormonal college student was ready to service him.

You win some, you lose seem, I guess.

"So, Winry. We posted all emergency numbers on the refrigerator, by the phone and on the TV set, so if you have any concerns, you can call us. After dinner, we'll be visiting our friends Maes and Gracia, so we will probably be back by around one in the morning." Mrs. Mustang said to her while Roy was helping her into her Burberry coat.

Which Winry thought to say—or rather, think—cost more than her whole wardrobe.

And Roy's Armani three piece suit—which cost more than her whole _house_.

Well, some people were just lucky.

"Yes, Mrs. Mustang." She answered. Roy then gave her a wink, which just made him God in her eyes, and spoke. "Hey, don't be a stranger. Enjoy the food in the fridge. It's usually the best part in babysitting."

"I will!" Winry replied, a grin on her features as she watched the Mustangs leave.

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><p>The time was now <strong>9:48 PM<strong>.

Current location of a one Winry Rockbell? Said person is now lying down on the very expensive carpet rug, eating the remains of what once was a kilo-heavy roast chicken. She was hungry, after all.

A small recount of events: After the Mustangs left, Winry had gotten to explore the house again. She toured the kitchen first, grabbing a tub of ice cream as she went; next came the garden, she dutifully ignored Black Hayate; after, she climbed the stairs and sneaked a peek into the baby's room—

Here, Winry gave out a squeal.

The baby, Ross, was _so_ adorable.

He, after ignoring child-molesting thoughts in her mind and dared to snatch a glance underneath the diapers to assign what sexual orientation she was going to use, was small, and baby-like.

Wait…baby-like? No shit, Sherlock.

Anyway, Ross had dark hair like his gorgeous father, and after looking at the pictures by the side-table, he had the most unique pair of tawny eyes. Not unlike his mother.

Winry was sure that when Ross grew up, he was going to embody one word, and one word alone:

**Hot**.

I digress.

So, yes, resuming earlier line of thought: After peeking on Ross, Winry also dared to venture into the master bedroom, which was like a palace on its own. An hour later, after trying on Mrs. Mustang's fine dresses and secretly smelling Roy's underwear and pocketing one, Winry came down to the kitchens, walking like the Queen in her Palace, and began cooking for dinner.

So, back to the present: Winry, on carpet, full stomach, soft music playing in the background, reading Anne Rice's _Sleeping Beauty_ equated to a happy Winry.

It was supposed to be a cool night. Something to make up for her boring Saturday.

It wasn't until an hour later that everything went wrong.

While Winry was reading, the lights dimmed and the lamps turned on, there was a sudden ringing sound. It was pitchy, and fearing that it would wake the baby, Winry ran to the source: the telephone by the fireplace.

Grabbing the receiver, Winry spoke in a cheery voice. "Good evening, Mustang residence."

It was quiet on the other end.

Puzzled, Winry frowned, even though the speaker couldn't see it. "Hello?"

It was still quiet. More puzzled now, and a tad bit annoyed, Winry set the phone down. Grumbling to herself about "immature pranksters" and things like "prank calls are like the oldest trick in the book", Winry came back to her carpet, which she now deemed the God of all carpets, and resumed her reading on the fornications of Sleeping Beauty.

Halfway through the story, Winry got restless. Hoping to alleviate the boredom, she stood and reached out for the phone. But before she could touch it, the phone rang. Releasing a long-suffering sigh, Winry picked up the phone and spoke.

"Hello? Mustang Residence."

The quiet was now getting annoying. At her temper's end, Winry spoke. "Look, you must be very amateurish. The prank calls are the most used trick in the entire book of all pranks. Be original, buster. Sheesh."

Suffice to say, hearing the other line go dead was satisfaction for Winry.

"Hmm…" Winry hummed out, thinking hard as she held the phone in her hand. "Who should I call? Alphonse? No, he's too shy. Edward? Nah, asshole much. Jean? He's a bit older, but he's hot. Hmm…tick-tock, who should I call?"

As she pondered this, Winry took a look at herself in the mirror across the room. She stared at her reflection: blonde hair, blue eyes, big bust. Hmm, looking good. Everything was nice.

_I wonder what painting is that._ Winry thought as she stared at a portrait of a shadowed figure in the mirror. Curious, Winry turned around.

Only to find a window.

Eyes wide, she turned back to the mirror.

No portrait of a shadowed figure.

Shit.

Double shit.

Double fucking holy shit.

Winry slapped herself. No, this was just her imagination. No, this was just her crazy mind seeing things. Yes, this was just her eyes playing tricks in her. Evidently, reading while lying down is a no-no.

Checking the window behind her, and seeing no shadowed figure, Winry was happy to find that it was just her imagination.

Still, covering the window with the curtains was probably the greatest idea she had ever thought of.

Now, back in the living room, lights no longer dimmed but bright, windows curtained and emergency contacts by the table, Winry set herself to continue reading her book, now in an upright sitting position.

When the desk clock by the sidetable turned **11:29 PM**, Winry found the energy in her to go up and check the baby. So, climbing up the stairs, Winry paid no heed as she went inside the baby's room. Ross was still asleep, as cute as a little angel.

Bending down to give the baby a kiss on the forehead, Winry noticed that the windows in the baby's rooms were open. When a chilly wind blew in, she closed them, locking them shut. It would be terrible of her if she'd leave them to freeze the baby.

She also powered up the lamp, the multicolored animal designs lighting the room. After she deemed it worthy of baby, Winry turned around and left the room. Once back in the living room, she plopped herself down and continued reading.

It wasn't until minutes later that she got another prank call.

This time, it wasn't quiet at the other end.

"Hello? Is somebody there?" Winry asked, after hearing what seemed to be breathing on the other end. Okay, if this was going along the line of _When A Stranger Calls_, this was pretty much a boatload of shit.

"Okay, dude, whoever you are, you must be either an on-the-loose psychomaniac or a terribly bored kid. I got something for you: get laid. Now, bye." Hanging up, Winry was about to set it down on the holder when she thought of a better idea. Instead of returning the phone to its holder, Winry set it by the side.

With the phone not in the holder, no dial tone.

No dial tone means no prank calls.

No prank calls means happy Winry.

Yes, she will be happy.

Thinking that she had outwitted the would-be "When A Stranger Calls" killer, Winry resumed her reading, free of any phone-related disturbances.

Until her _own_ phone rang.

Answering it, a shaky hand reached it up to Winry's ear. "H—hello?"

"_Hello_." A flat, deep, male voice repeated. Winry sighed in relief, recognizing the voice as Edward's. She could actually feel her body losing its tension. "Ed, you scared the shit out of me."

"_Really?_" A faint note of amusement could be heard from Edward's brooding-like voice.

"Yeah. There's this jerk that keeps on making prank calls on me, and I really got tired of it." Winry replied, rolling her eyes.

"_Maybe you should call the police? Have them trace it?_" Even when Edward tried to make his voice sound uncaring, Winry could still hear the faint trickle of concern wedged in.

"Aw, is Edo scared that WinWi will be hurt?" She replied in a mock-baby tone. She smirked when she heard Ed growl in frustration.

"_Whatever_." Edward replied.

"Gee, that's a pretty smart ret—" Winry cut of f her sentence when she thought she heard something move upstairs. It was awfully and creepily silent in the house.

"_Winry? Are you okay?_" Edward asked, now fully concerned. Winry shushed him. "Not now, Ed. I'll call you back. Have to check up on the baby."

"_But—_" Winry pressed the stop button and slipped her phone into her pocket. Looking around, Winry grabbed an ancient knickknack, which resembled a very old knife. Oh well, you gotta use what you got.

Climbing up the steps as quietly as possible, Winry kept the knife close to her. She ignored the fact that her hands were shaking, that her legs were about to buckle in fear. As she climbed the stairs, she couldn't help but curse at herself for turning the lights off. It was pretty dark by the time she got up.

Trying to see in the dark, Winry ambled her way towards the baby's room, her feet making as little noise as possible. She could actually feel her heart pounding in her chest, and even in her ears.

When she got to the baby's room, Winry held back a sigh of relief as she saw Ross still sleeping in his little crib. The windows were still closed and that convinced her to slide down the wall and rest on the wooden floor.

God, she needed some sleep.

Apparently, sex-induced minds lead to delusion.

That was pretty much right.

After she heaved herself up and went down, placing the knife back on the table, Winry proceeded to the kitchens. There, she got herself two packets of coffee, some ice, water and milk. Finding a blender in one of the cabinets, Winry proceeded to make herself a mocha shake to juice her up. Thanking God that the blender worked at a quiet pace.

Once done, and after transferring the shake into a pitcher, Winry sat herself on the kitchen table and downed the drink in one gulp.

Her eyes immediately opened as she groaned in pain.

It was her friend, brain-freeze.

Just what she needed right now.

Her phone rang again, and thinking it was Ed, answered it without looking at the screen.

"`lo?" Receiving no answer, she checked the screen.

_Unknown Number_

Motherfucker.

She ended it. Immediately.

Looking at the emergency contact list, Winry dialed up the police number.

After a tantalizing amount of ringing, somebody finally picked up. "_Good evening, L.A.P.D. Officer Harrison._"

"Yes, hello. My name's Winry Rockbell." She spoke out, her hands regaining that familiar shaking feeling.

"_Miss Rockbell, what can we do for you?" _Officer Harrison asked.

"Well, you see, I've been getting a lot of prank calls as of now and it's starting to freak me out, sir."

"_Prank calls, you say? Did he say anything, Miss?"_

"No, but I can hear him breathing on the other end. I know it sounds stupid, but it really is starting to freak me out."

"_Don't worry, Miss. You did a right thing by calling us. Can you give us a number of the caller?_"

"Sure," Winry then held up the call as she looked into her contact log. "Here it is. It's 477-6643"

"_477-6643? That sounds like a telephone line to me. Anyway, we got an empty night here at the station, Miss. We'll try to track the number down. If he calls again, let us know."_

"Alright, thank you." Winry hanged the phone up. She was about to pocket it when she got an idea. Taking her phone out, Winry typed in the numbers.

477-663.

She pressed the call button.

The line was on, it began to ring.

Then, at the same time, something rang from behind her.

Hair at standing at its end, Winry turned around.

She never got to scream.

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><p><em><strong>The Inquisition<strong>_

_**Daily News, LA**_

_**Nineteen-year old college student, Winry Rockbell, was found dead in the home of famous heir Roy Mustang and his wife, Riza Mustang. Accounts state that Mr. and Mrs. Mustang were out when Ms. Rockbell was at their home, serving as a babysitter for the Mustangs' one-year old child, Ross Mustang. Victim, according to the medical examiners, was reported to be strangled to death. Baby was not compromised. No known suspect has been found at the moment. For further details, please turn to page 6A/Prank Call Murder.**_

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>_So, I hope you like the first installment of "The Urban Legend" series. Following stories will be posted as soon as possible. Subscribe and enjoy!_


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